


Sweet Dreams Are Made Of This

by vinterdrog



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Comeplay, Crossdressing, Established Relationship, Lingerie, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-11
Updated: 2013-05-11
Packaged: 2017-12-11 14:02:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/799536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vinterdrog/pseuds/vinterdrog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Stiles' birthday, and Derek is wearing lace.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Dreams Are Made Of This

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo. This happened. And while I don't want to _warn_ for bottom!Derek, I feel like I'll get a ton of shit if I don't mention it, so here it is, this is the mention. ENJOY! Derek sure does.
> 
> ([here's a visual for your viewing pleasure](https://xdress.com/product/view/Z755)) ((nsfw))

Stiles has barely gotten through the front door at his dad’s house when his phone starts blaring. His dad gives him _a look_ and Stiles sighs and reaches into his pocket.  

“Hey Derek,” he says, not even looking at the screen when he swipes it. He gives his dad _a look_ right back and then turns around so he doesn’t have to watch his dad watch him while he’s on the phone with his boyfriend. 

“Are you coming over later?” Derek asks, and Stiles rolls his eyes at the lack of greetings. 

“Yeah. _Someone_ requires my presence here for awhile, but I’m coming over.”

“When?” Derek inquires. 

Stiles frowns. “I don’t know, in a few hours? Why? Do you have somewhere to be?”

“No, I just—Nevermind. A few hours?”

“Yes. I guess we’ll have dinner and he will praise my existence and tell me what a wonderful son I am.” Stiles glances over his shoulder and catches his dad rolling his eyes. 

“Okay, I’ll see you then,” Derek says and the he hangs up without even waiting for a reply. Stiles stares at his phone in confusion. Sure, he’s used to Derek being short and to the point on the phone, but today is his birthday, which happily coincides with spring break, so you’d think that he _at least_ could’ve gotten a ‘happy birthday’ before Derek hung up?

Apparently not. Stiles pockets his phone and turns around to face his dad again.

“You don’t have to be here if it’s such a hardship,” his dad says, but he’s reaching out for a hug as he says it.  

“What, have you ever known me to say no to free food and compliments?” Stiles says, stepping into his father’s embrace. 

“Funny how you seem to think you’ll get either of those things if you stay here.”

“Hey! Your only son is turning twenty-two while he’s home from college, I’d like to think that deserves some kind of celebration!”

“Well, when you put it that way...”

* * *

 

A couple of hours later, Stiles is, as promised, standing on Derek’s doorstep. He raises his hand to knock, fully expecting the door to open before he touches it, but when it doesn’t, he hesitates. He knocks, then he has to _wait_ before Derek actually opens the door. 

“Hi,” Stiles says, smiling brightly. “Were you busy?” He only gets a glare in return, and while that’s not unusual, Stiles would’ve expected a slightly warmer welcome when they haven’t seen each other in two months. See also: birthday. “I can—uh—come back?” He offers, even if they both know it’s just a platitude.  

“Don’t be stupid,” Derek mutters and yanks him inside. “How was your trip?” he asks, hovering while Stiles shrugs out of his jacket. 

“Uneventful.” Stiles bends down to unlace his shoes, thinking he might as well get them out of the way now, instead of in the bedroom. 

“How’s your dad?” 

“Probably the same as when you undoubtedly spied on him this morning, you creepy fucker,” Stiles says, kicking off his other shoe and rising to his full length again. “Now, are you gonna kiss me sometime today, or what?”

Derek sighs like what he’s about to do is a big sacrifice, but Stiles sees the smile in his eyes before he gets hauled in for a kiss. 

It’s what Stiles has waited for for _weeks_ , finally getting to kiss Derek again. He wraps his arms around Derek’s neck, keeping him in place in case he decides he wants to back away. Stiles won’t let him, no way, he’s missed him too much. 

When they _do_ break apart, because oxygen is apparently still necessary when you’re twenty-two, he feels Derek’s smile against his own, and Derek’s soft, murmured “Happy Birthday” sends pleasure shivers down Stiles’ spine. 

“Did you get me a present?” he asks, teasing mostly because he doesn’t expect anything, but Derek still tenses against him. “Oh. You didn’t have to, you know that, right?” Derek shifts, and suddenly, Stiles understands. He doesn’t have a full-ride scholarship to MIT because he’s stupid. “Does it have something to do with sex?” he asks, excited now, because this feels very promising. Derek’s only reply is to shift again, and that pretty much confirms it. Stiles gets half-hard in a flash, and he doesn’t even know what Derek has planned. “Can I get it now, or do I have to wait?” He kisses Derek again, trying to persuade him, and Derek is stiff for all of two seconds before he melts and kisses back. He slides his hands down Stiles’ back until he reaches his ass and in one swift movement he hoists Stiles up and starts to carry him into the bedroom. 

“I’m taking that as a ‘now’,” Stiles gasps, his stomach swooping at the lack of ground beneath his feet. He has no clue what this is about; they’ve done their fair share of experimenting in the bedroom, and Stiles wonders if this will be the return of the handcuffs, or if Derek has found some new thing he wants to try. He seems nervous about it, which isn’t like Derek at all, so it has to be something they haven’t discussed. Not that that’s helping Stiles at all right now, because he’s been away at college for a few years, and he lost count of their skype sex sessions a long, long time ago. He honestly doesn’t know what kinks they have and haven’t discussed, mostly because he gets pretty out of it when he’s close to coming, and what little brain-to-mouth filter he has _completely_ disappears. 

Okay, so maybe ‘discussed’ isn’t the correct word in this situation, but whatever. The point is that Stiles doesn’t know what kinks he’s mentioned and not. 

He’s jerked from his thoughts when Derek unceremoniously dumps him on the bed and straddles him. “I don’t see any handcuffs,” Stiles says. 

“You don’t want handcuffs,” Derek replies, tugging on Stiles’ belt. 

Okay, Stiles’ interest is officially spiked to the max. “I don’t?”

“No.” Derek won’t quite meet his eyes and Stiles doesn’t really know what to make of it. 

“What is it, then?” 

Derek sits back on his heels and sighs. “It’s—you’ve mentioned this. More than once.”  

It’s no secret that Derek is two hundred percent more coherent during Stiles’ orgasms than what Stiles is, but this is—interesting. Stiles had no idea there were ideas he was so hung up on that he’s mentioned them more than once, unconsciously. 

“Okay?” he says, raising himself up and leaning back on his elbows. “Are you gonna tell me, or am I gonna have to guess?”

Derek meets his eyes for a second, then steps down on the floor. 

“Hey, no, where are you—oh _fuck_.” Derek unbuttons his pants, and Stiles is rendered _actually_ speechless. Through the V of his fly, Stiles can see not the usual soft-washed gray cotton, but—

Lace. Black _lace_. On Derek. It’s Stiles’ birthday and Derek is wearing black lace and Stiles is pretty sure his plane crashed and that he’s in heaven, because this, this is—

“Holy _fuck_ ,” he says again, rubbing a hand over his face. He blinks, hard, but Derek is still there. “Are you—oh my god, come here,” he says, making grabby hands for Derek and yanking him down on top of himself when he gets close enough. He kisses him hard, roaming his hands all over Derek’s back and then down to his ass—oh god his _ass_ in _lace_ —, moaning into the kiss when Derek presses him down into the mattress. “I love you, oh my god, I—” Stiles pushes Derek back again and sits up. “Take off your pants,” he demands. He needs to see more, needs to see all of it. 

Derek smirks at him, cocky now that his plan has been so well-received, but he does as Stiles says. He goes slow, though, takes his time to take off his shoes and socks, then slowly peels off his pants. 

It’s—Stiles is honestly not sure how he has any blood left in his body, because his cock is so hard it hurts. He has thought about this so many times, but he didn’t think he’d actually say anything, not even in his orgasmic state. He really didn’t think Derek would appreciate it. 

He was wrong. He was so, so wrong, and Stiles has never been more happy about being wrong ever in his life. Because as much as Stiles appreciates this, Derek is, too, because his dick is hard inside the _lace panties_ oh my god Stiles is pretty sure he just forgot how to breathe. 

“How are you even real?” Stiles says when Derek kneels on the bed again, now naked except for his underwear. His _underwear_. Stiles is still dressed apart from his undone belt, but he really couldn’t care less about that right now. He shuffles forward until his knees touches Derek’s and kisses him again, can’t not, and lets his hands wander again. He tries to take his time moving down Derek’s back, but he still reaches the waistband of the panties pretty quickly, his fingers trailing over the elastic. Derek grabs the hem of Stiles’ shirt and tries to pull it off, but neither of them want to stop kissing and Stiles doesn’t want to stop touching Derek’s ass, so it’s not until Derek bites down on Stiles’ bottom lip that he reluctantly lets go.

Stiles quickly strips out of the rest of his clothes while he’s at it so that he doesn’t have to let go again. When he’s done and all naked, he pushes Derek down on the bed and straddles him. Sure, Derek can throw him over in a flash, but they both _like it_ like this, so he won’t. At least not yet. 

Stiles wishes he had a camera. He wants to capture this sight, Derek spread out on the sheets and looking like wet dream of Stiles’ wet dreams; wants to be able to look at it forever after tonight. He wants to look now, but he also wants to touch, feel, _taste_ , fucking hell, he wants to do it all, but he also wants to just _look_. 

“Stiles,” Derek grunts, snapping him back to reality. “Are you just gonna watch?” He starts to slide his hand down his chest, but right before he reaches the waistband, Stiles slaps his hand away. 

“No!” 

Derek raises an eyebrow. “No?” 

While the thought of Derek touching himself like this is very, very appealing, Stiles is pretty sure his brain would explode with the visual. He breathes in deeply and reaches out to put his hand on Derek’s cock. The fabric is softer than he expected but the edges of the pattern are rough, and Stiles can’t stop tracing the flowers with his thumb. Derek is twitching under Stiles’ palm and Stiles can see the precome starting to drip from the tip because the fabric is see-through and Stiles will never get over this, ever. He’s still not completely sure he’s not dreaming, so to make the most of it before it maybe goes away, he bends down and sucks on the tip of Derek’s cock through the lace. Derek groans and immediately reaches down to grab Stiles’ head, keeping him in place. Not that Stiles has any plans on moving away, but he still enjoys Derek’s grip on him, and they both know it. 

Stiles reaches up to carefully peel back enough of the fabric to take Derek into his mouth, barely containing a moan when he finally does. He’s missed this, too, there’s no use denying. The taste and the feel, Stiles _likes_ sucking cock, okay? He’s bisexual, and right now very gay for his boyfriend, he’s totally allowed to have been missing this. He can’t take it all, because he doesn’t want to drag the panties off all the way, but it’s okay. He doesn’t want Derek to come yet anyway, he has a few more things he wants to try. It’s definitely not the most skilled blowjob he’s ever given, but Derek doesn’t seem to be complaining. Stiles strokes Derek's thighs, drags his nails through the dark hairs and smiles around the cock in his mouth when Derek groans. 

He slides his hands higher, inching his fingertips in under the elastic straining against Derek's hipbones and then moving down to squeeze his ass. The fabric is warm against his knuckles, and Stiles has to back off, release Derek and squeeze the base of his own dick, because he's dangerously close to coming already. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and takes a moment again to just look. 

His boyfriend looks amazing. Okay, Stiles is pretty sure Derek can't look anything but amazing even if he tries, and that is _not_ because Stiles is partial. But now, like this—it's a completely different level of hotness. Derek is laying stretched out on the bed, one hand under his head and the other one relaxed at his side. His muscles are well defined as usual and there's a thin line of sweat at his hair line that will soon make his hair go curly. 

Then there's his pelvis. The dark lace stretched across paler skin, and Derek's cock sticking out obscenely at the front, smearing precome on his stomach. 

“How long have you been wearing these?” he asks, suddenly remembering the short phone call in his dad's hall.

“Since lunch,” Derek replies, his gaze focused on a spot right next to Stiles' shoulder. Stiles drops his jaw. Lunch was _hours_ ago. “They're comfortable,” Derek says, apparently feeling the need to defend himself when he catches Stiles' expression, and he's blushing. 

Jesus Christ. Derek is blushing. This is a dream. 

“Oh, I'm not complaining,” Stiles interjects. “This is me, not complaining about the extremely hot visual of you walking around in these all day,” he says, stroking his cock a few times before letting it go completely. The thought of Derek wearing lace panties under his regular clothes while he's doing regular things, meeting people, _fuck_ —let's just say Stiles' got jerkoff material to last until infinity. He looks up and down Derek's body, trying to decide what to do next, but Derek makes the decision for him by shifting a little and spreading his legs.  

“Turn over,” Stiles says, nudging one of Derek's thighs. Derek does, without protest, and then Stiles is presented with a lace covered ass. He takes a few seconds to just look, then he lies down on top of Derek, stretches out to match his limbs, and kisses him. It's short and soft due to the awkward angle, but it's still something. Stiles cock rubs against the lace, the friction making him groan straight into Derek's ear, and he feels Derek shiver underneath him. He kisses him again, then crawls down until he’s kneeling at the edge of the bed, his face right above Derek’s ass. He licks a broad stripe through the panties and smirks at Derek’s responding groan and what he probably thinks is a discrete wiggling of his ass. It’s not, but Stiles still gives him what he wants, inching the underwear down until they snap into place in the crease of Derek’s ass. It exposes him beautifully, and Stiles doesn’t hesitate before diving in again, getting him wet with broad, sloppy licks. Derek is moaning loudly, rubbing his hips down against the mattress to get some more friction on his cock. 

“Stiles, fuck, can you—” Stiles reaches up and rubs at the rim of Derek’s ass with his fingertips, licking over them, pushes his tongue in, effectively making Derek trail off into a groan. “ _Fuck_.”

Stiles continues to lick until Derek can't possibly get any wetter, the he starts to slowly slide a finger inside along with his tongue. He fucks him slowly, stretching him, and when Derek starts to fuck back, he adds another finger. 

“Can I fuck you?” Stiles blurts out when he’s just about to add a third. They’ve done it like that before, but they usually do it with Stiles bottoming. They both prefer it that way, but now, when Derek is loose and wet and stretched, Stiles at least has to _ask_ , because fucking Derek like this, with those fucking panties still on—he won’t last long, but it will be _so good_. 

Derek hesitates for a few seconds, but then—”Yes.”

“Do you need—” Stiles starts to pull out his fingers so that he can reach the bedside table and the lube, but Derek reaches back behind him and grabs Stiles’ wrist, keeping him in place.  

“No,” Derek says, his voice choked. “Just—do it.”

“Okay. Okay, I’ll just—” Stiles leans down for a few more licks, pulls out his fingers and covers them with spit before pushing them in again. Then he sits back on his knees and takes Derek with him, pulling him up on his hands and knees. He spits in his palm, strokes his cock a few times and then lines himself up against Derek’s ass. “I’m not gonna last long,” Stiles breathes out as he pushes in. 

“I know,” Derek replies, and Sterek doesn’t need to see his face to know he’s smirking. Stiles swats Derek’s ass, once, just to shut him up. 

“I can finish on my own,” Stiles grunts, thrusting in hard, making them both scoot forward on the bed. Derek is tight, wet, _hot_ , and the panties are dragging against the underside of Stiles’ cock with every thrust. It’s maddening, and _so good_ , and Stiles wasn’t kidding, he really isn’t going to last long. Derek clenches around him, doing his best to bring Stiles over the edge, and Stiles would be annoyed if it wasn’t for how fucking _amazing_ it all feels. “Derek, _fuck_ , I’m—” is all Stiles gets out before his mind blacks out. He’s still conscious, still _fucking_ , but he has no idea what he’s saying anymore and there’s no finesse in his movements, at all, it’s just pure instinct and raw need; just white-hot pleasure spreading through his body.

When he comes back to himself, Stiles is slumped over Derek’s back, his cock still snug inside Derek’s ass. He can feel his own come starting to trickle out around it and winces as he pulls out. Derek hasn’t come yet, but he’s gripping the sheets hard and his legs are shaking, so he’s close. Stiles eases up the panties over Derek’s ass again, rubs his thumb against his hole to smear the come into the fabric and reaches around with his other hand to palm Derek’s cock. 

“Best birthday gift ever,” Stiles murmurs distractedly as he traces the pattern again. He can’t get enough of the feel of it, can’t ever look his fill, it’s just too hot. It’s definitely what Stiles needed to be able to get through the months until summer break. “Come on, Derek,” he urges, slipping his fingers in under the elastic to rub at the rim of Derek’s hole again. 

“Stiles, I don’t—”  
  
“You do, you can, come _on_ ,” Stiles says, gripping Derek’s cock harder through the lace. He would stick his hand inside if the edges of the panties didn’t already dig into Derek’s skin, and this is enoughh, _has_ to be enough. Stiles really wants Derek to come in his underwear, wants to feel it drip out through the holes between the flowery pattern, and— 

“ _Jesus_ , Stiles,” Derek groans, and Stiles realizes he’s said it out loud. 

“Come on, it’s my birthday, you _can_ , just—” He rubs his thumb over the head of Derek’s cock, presses his nail in the slit through the lace and pushes his thumb inside Derek’s ass again, and that’s all it takes for Derek to choke on his breath and his cock to twitch and jerk in Stiles’ hand. There’s wetness trickling out over Stiles’ fingers, Dereks’ hole clenches around Stiles’ thumb, and if Stiles hadn’t just come his brains out, he would be hard again in no time. His dick makes a valiant effort though, twitching against his leg, but it’s just not possible. 

Derek’s arms give out under him when he’s done and he slumps down on the sheets, trapping Stiles’ hand under him and causing Stiles to lay down on top of him. 

“Mnrgh,” Stiles grunts into his ear, wiggling his hand out before it falls asleep, or gets come-dried onto Derek’s skin. He brings his hand up to lick it clean, and Derek makes a sound that most definitely sounds like a whine. 

“Stiles,” he says, a warning edge in his tone. 

Stiles sucks the last bit off of his thumb, then leans down further to kiss Derek instead. He slides down onto the mattress to get a better angle, and Derek musters up enough energy to push him onto his back and lean over him, kissing him harder, greedier.  

“Best birthday gift _ever_ ,” Stiles repeats when they break off, a little more feeling to it this time.

“I’m glad you liked it,” Derek replies, laying down beside him and sliding an arm over Stiles’ bare waist. 

“ _Liked it_ , are you kidding me? I love it, I love _you_ , it’s—thank you.”

“It was my pleasure,” Derek says sickly-sweet, leaning in for another kiss. 

They should clean up before everything dries and becomes really uncomfortable, and before the panties are ruined, because they’re going to do this again, and unless— _unless_...

“Did you buy any more of these?” Stiles asks, sliding a hand down Derek’s side to hook his finger into the waistband of the panties, then releasing it so it snaps against Derek’s skin. The way Derek’s breath hitches tells Stiles everything he needs to know. “You did, didn’t you? Oh my god, you’re—Shit. This is just as much of a thing for you as for me, isn’t it?”

Derek doesn’t reply, which basically means yes. 

Definitely best birthday ever. 

**Author's Note:**

> imagine a few years into the future when they’re settled into a house in a nice neighborhood and derek is in the backyard hanging laundry and there’s a load of panties and mrs miller next door is out cutting the hedge and she sees derek’s laundry and she stares at him and he looks at her and just grins, flashing his fangs, and she cuts off a too big wig and fade to black
> 
> this is my first go at sterek porn please don’t be mean /o\


End file.
